The Best Laid Plans
by gomababe
Summary: A plan of England's backfires in a rather spectacular way when he fails to take into account the fact that Scotland's 'attitude problem' would only get worse if he was messed with. Rated for some rather strong language on Scotland's part.


A/N: A fic idea that was suggested to me, and I decided to really run with. I really wish I could draw properly now because some of these mental images are just crying out for it.

"Scotland! I swear to God himself, if you don't bring that back right this second I am going to throttle you!" Scotland scowled as he ran,

"Like bloody hell I'm giein' this back ye fuckin' asshole! No' until ye change me back!" he retorted, his voice squeaking as he neatly avoided the table. England cursed loudly as he ran into the object. He was sincerely beginning to regret turning his oldest brother into a child again. He wondered briefly why he'd thought it a good idea in the first place...

_England cackled to himself as he made the finishing touches to the circle he had drawn out in chalk, spellbook laid on a nearby table,_

"_This ought to teach that idiot brother of mines some manners." He said brightly, turning to the flying green rabbit that was hovering beside him,_

"_Are you sure it's such a good idea to use this spell on him?" it asked dubiously. England scowled at the little creature briefly,_

"_Of course it is." He retorted, sounding a little offended, "It's a simple enough spell and is easily reversed so I can change him back once he learns his lesson." The flying rabbit hummed to itself but said nothing else, knowing that any doubts would be dismissed out of hand. England drew his cloak tighter around himself as he picked up the spellbook and stepped into the circle to start the spell..._

Scotland ducked into the kitchen, almost tripping up Daffyd in his rush to escape England's wrath, the battered spellbook still clutched in his hands. England stopped in the doorway, allowing the Welsh nation to give his twin brother a long suffering sigh,

"You turned Scotland into a seven year old didn't you?" he said simply. England glared at him,

"Well if the fact that he almost bowled you over wasn't enough evidence." He replied sarcastically. Wales simply rolled his eyes,

"Good luck getting the book back, I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to throw down the well." He said, neatly sidestepping the Englishman, who started racing in the direction the now much smaller nation had run off in, yelling yet more curses in a colourful mixture of English, Welsh and Gaelic. Wales shook his head and sighed again as he put another pot of tea on the brew, wondering why he even put up with these shenanigans.

...

Canada hummed England's national anthem as he walked the nation roads to his father figure's house. He wanted to ask the older nation something quite delicate and thought it would be best to ask England over a few cups of tea first. He blinked as he heard a child yelling something unintelligible in Gaelic while England screamed at someone. He sighed as he rounded the corner, obviously someone had upset England, which was going to make his task a lot more difficult. He wasn't prepared for the small figure that suddenly ran into him, causing them both to topple over,

"What the maple?" he muttered as he finally realised what had happened. The small figure that had fallen looked a little too familiar. He scrutinised the child for a moment, his eyes widening as the child finally groaned and looked up at him. Huge eyebrows and large green eyes stared back,

"Oh, Mata!" it exclaimed, "Whit're you daein' here?" Scotland asked nonchalantly, as though running into his nephew after he'd been turned into a seven year old chid was an everyday occurrence. Canada gaped for a few moments before finally finding his voice,

"I could ask you the same question uncle Scotland." He replied, "What happened to you?" Scotland was about to reply when England finally came storming around the corner, completely out of breath and looking as livid as he had when Australia had thrown his dinner out in plain sight of the then Empire. Canada gulped and backed up instinctively while Scotland scrambled up and tried to make his getaway. The now much smaller nation was too slow and England soon grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling Scotland back towards him,

"Lemme go ye stupid sassanach bastard!" he screeched, kicking his legs against England's thighs. England simply glared at the child,

"If you think that's going to be enough to get me to put you down after I've had centuries of colonies doing the exact same thing you can forget it." He growled dangerously, "Now give me my book back!" he demanded. Scotland simply kicked at his brother again, getting a lucky shot at the 'crown jewels', causing England to drop him as he yelped. Scotland scurried behind Canada and peeked out from behind them, glaring daggers at the ex-empire, still clutching England's spellbook to his chest. Canada watched England warily as the older nation recovered,

"You. Are. Going. To. Pay. For. That." He ground out angrily. The blonde nation finally decided to step in before someone got hurt,

"England, that's enough!" he shouted loudly enough and with enough authority to get England to snap out of his haze, "I don't know what's going on here, but there's no way I'm letting you near Scotland until you've calmed down." He said sternly, his eyes darkening somewhat. England blinked at the nation in front of him,

"Amer..." he started but quickly corrected himself as Canada's gaze darkened some more, "Canada? What are you doing here?" he asked, clearly puzzled by this strange turn of events. Canada sighed,

"I had come over for a visit to ask you something, but clearly you have other things going on." He replied, motioning to the child that was now clearly cowering behind him. England glared somewhat at the red haired nation, but it didn't last long and he sighed, crouching down to his brother's new eye level,

"Scotland," he said in a much calmer voice, "Can I get my book back please?" he asked, making a face at the last word. Scotland looked at his brother dubiously, not getting out from behind Canada just yet just in case his brother was playing some sort of trick on him. England waited patiently, knowing that any attempt to grab the book would simply be blocked by a rather protective Canadian. Finally Scotland shuffled out from his hiding place and threw the book at the ex-empire,

"There's yer fuckin' book." He snipped, pouting childishly, "Now change me back." England raised an eyebrow at that,

"Thank you, but for that attitude and the grief you've been giving me all morning, I don't think I will." He replied, picking up the book and standing up. Scotland puffed himself up to make some retort, but Canada once again stepped in,

"I think England might have a point Scotland." He told the red-haired child, "If you've been causing trouble for him all morning then maybe he shouldn't have to change you back just yet." He melted a little at the huge, disappointed eyes the now very young boy was giving him, but he managed to resist; having America as a brother meant having to ignore similar looks on a regular basis after all. Scotland pouted,

"But Maaaaataaaa," he whined, "I cannae stay like this." England snorted in amusement. He'd heard that tone many a time when he was raising all of his colonies just a century before,

"You can until I decide otherwise, and that's final." He stated, "Maybe this experience might just teach you some manners." Scotland glared up at his brother,

"Ye're a wanker." He stated, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting some more. Canada snuffed in amusement, while England just chuckled,

"Yes, yes alright." He sighed, "Now, who's up for a spot of tea?" he asked, putting his spellbook in his pocket and clapping his hands. He turned to Canada, "Then maybe we can finally have a chat about what you wanted to ask me." He suggested. Canada nodded,

"Sounds great England." He said, "I can whip up some pancakes as well if you want any." He offered. Scotland grinned,

"We hae some shortbreid, but I wouldnae mind some pancakes." He said. Canada laughed as the strange trio made their way back to the house, while England sighed,

"Well I'd normally tell you not to bother lad, but I think Scotland might just pester me forever if I don't let you." Canada smiled at his 'father',

"It's really no problem to make a couple of batches up, it'll save you rushing around trying to find anything for us to eat." He said. England just shook his head while Scotland cheered and rushed on ahead, presumably to tell the others sitting in the house the news.

...

When England and Canada arrived in the kitchen, they were surprised to see France sitting at the table, cooing over Scotland, who was sitting in his lap; very much enjoying the attention,

"Ahh, mon cher, you are so adorable like this." He crooned, hugging the child. Scotland laughed,

"Sorry tae disappoint you, mo cridhe, but I'm no' stayin' like this." He reminded the other nation. France sighed dramatically,

"Oui, oui, it would make things a little... too awkward." He agreed, "But still," he grinned, "for now I can fuss over you for as much as I like." He laughed, hugging Scotland again, who merely giggled. England glared at France,

"Who the bloody hell let you in?" he asked, while Canada simply blinked at the scene. France looked up and grinned,

"Wales did." He replied simply, "I think when L'Ecosse turned up at the same time I did, he just gave in without asking anything." England grit his teeth, clearly not happy,

"I'm going to have a word with that brother of mines." He muttered as he swept over to the cupboard and getting the good china out, "I suppose you'll be staying for tea then?" he asked. France grinned some more as he loosened his grip on Scotland,

"Of course, I was merely going to ask you something, but since L'Ecosse is too adorable to leave right now..." he left his statement hanging. Canada sighed as he sat down at the table too,

"Papa, honestly." He said. France looked up at him,

"Ah, mon petit, when did you get 'ere?" he asked in surprise. Canada suppressed a sigh,

"I got in at the same time England did." Scotland pouted up at the French nation,

"Didn't I say that Mata wis here?" he asked. France looked down at him and shook his head,

"Non, mon couer, you didn't." He replied, visibly melting as Scotland looked over to Canada with big eyes,

"Oh, Mata, I'm sorry... he started, but Canada quickly put his hands up,

"It's no problem uncle Scotland, really." He tried to cut off the self-deprecating rant that he knew was about to follow. Scotland managed to hold back a sniffle,

"A'right then." He said quietly, "If you say so." France couldn't hold back his little squeal as he hugged the little nation again,

"C'est si mignon." He said, followed by such rapid fire French that even Canada couldn't make it out. England snorted in irritation as the kettle boiled,

"Honestly, frog." He muttered, "This is still Scotland we're talking about." He snipped. France looked up at him,

"And?" he asked, "It's never stopped me before." He looked down at Scotland, who was looking at England with an annoyed pout and smiled, "Can we keep 'im like this for the rest of the day?" he asked. Scotland looked up at France, not sure whether to be horrified or not. England snorted again as he filled the teapot and set it to one side as he looked out the milk and sugar,

"That was the plan originally anyway." He replied smoothly, "It was actually going to be the rest of the week, but Scotland is even worse as a child than he ever was as an adult to deal with." Scotland glared at his brother,

"There's no way I would put up wi' this fer a fill week!" he snapped, "Unless ye want that book chucked doon the well fer real." England turned to his brother,

"You wouldn't do that because you know damn well that I'd need it to change you back." He replied smoothly. Scotland scowled at him,

"Bastard." He growled when he realised England's point. Canada shook his head,

"Don't panic, I'm sure England will stick to his word." He said, giving England a meaningful glance as the other nation poured out the tea.

"Yes, yes I will turn you back." He said. That seemed to make Scotland a little happier as he gingerly picked up the mug his brother set in front of him,

"Thank Christ fer that." He muttered, "Much as I love the attention, I dinnae really like seein' the word from this perspective." France pouted a little,

"Ah well, such things are not meant to last." He sighed, ruffling Scotland's hair as the little nation squeaked in protest. Canada and England laughed at the sight, it was pretty adorable and France wasn't acting like a complete pervert for once. England came over to the table, plate of shortbread in hand and sat down with a contented sigh, happy to revel in what was probably going to be last peaceful moment he was going to have for the next few hours. Scotland looked up at his brother after a beat of silence,

"So when're ye gonnae change me back?"


End file.
